Broken Glass(es)
by somegirlwrites
Summary: To Audrey, Seymour was the cutest little thing. Even with the thick glasses. Sometimes, you just can't sleep. The pair talks about Seymour's past at 4AM. (Sequel to Shattered Porcelain)


**a/n: this originally was a chapter 2 to Shattered Porcelain, but I like it better as a sequel. Thanks to Mybabybumblebee for reviewing and suggesting a part 2! Much love, Ani.**

 **Also this is the same a/u as the last one. I don't like Audrey from the little shop movie much, so she's more based on the way her character is portrayed in the stage production (which is not much different)**

 **i'll stop talking. Enjoy!**

Audrey was restless.

She turned over, staring at Seymour in bed beside her. He slept soundly.

Audrey's mother used to tell her things while she brushed Audrey's hair before school. Audrey's mother told her a lot of things.

But she'd never forget the most important, which was 'Girls like you don't get happy endings. You may be pretty, an' blonde, but'cha ain't no princess, Doll. I'm just settin' ya up for life.'

Audrey believed this, and she still does. In silent moments like these in which she observed her sleeping lover, she wondered how they fell in line together. Maybe her mother's words were half-true. She was no princess, and she had no prince. But Seymour had to be as good as it got.

She didn't realize it, but she had reached out and touched his shoulder. This roused him just enough for him to shift forward and circle his arms around her, before setting back down into her warmth. He ran his hands through her loose hair. "Ya didn't set your hair last night," he whispered.

"I know." She whispers back.

This exchange calmed her down for about.. two minutes. Then she was back to twitching and sighing.

Seymour shifted their bodies again, now to rub circles on the small of her back. "Audrey, Hon." His voice was scratchy and morning-husked. "What's the matter? You've been squirmin' like a cat in the rain all night."

"Nothin', Seymour. Don't worry 'bout it." She smiles reassuringly at him and meticulously, but carefully, combs through his messy hair with her fingers. Seymour happily leans into her touch.

The time neared four or five, much too early to be awake. Neither of them got much more sleep that night.

"Seymour, you always got me talkin' about my past, but'cha never talk much about yours. How come?"

"There just isn't much to talk about."

"There's gotta be. Ya told me Mushnik took ya outta the Skid Row Home For Boys. How old were ya?"

"Ten."

"Gee, you were orphaned that young?" Sadness settled on her face.

"I... uh...was orphaned at two or three."

Audrey stopped speaking.

"B-But it's okay now! You can't miss parents you hardly met. You told me that about your father." He touches her cheek.

"I guess so."

Seymour couldn't make out Audrey's face well in the dark, but her eyes were glittering.

"I was.. left on the doorstep of the Home. That's what the headmaster says, anyways. Wrapped in blankets, dropped off by a woman who called herself my neighbor. By the time I was ten, I had been at the Home for the longest."

" _Alright, Seaweed. You wanna get smart with me, punk? You may've been here longer, but I'm older. So I gets my way. Stand up."_

 _Seymour scrambled to his feet._

" _Gimme them glasses."_

" _Please no..." he rubbed his bruised elbow._

" _Gimme 'em or I'll-!" He held his foot over Seymour's patch of wilting weeds he pulled out of the ground._

" _No!" He shrieked, throwing himself over the flowers. "Don't do it! Don't hurt them!"_

" _Gimme the glasses, Semen!"_

 _Seymour handed them over disdainfully. The bully snapped them over his knee, dropping the halves in his lap. "There ya go, kid. Maybe I just did you a favor. The less times you see yourself in the mirror, the better. See ya Seed-whore!"_

 _Seymour sniffled, lifting the broken halves and trudging sadly to the desk up front. The lady who sat up there took out her tape, tore off some, and wrapped the bridge of Seymour's glasses together. "There ya are, Seymour. You were saying, sir?" The lady turned back to the man who stood in front of her. The man was facing Seymour. "Say, Seymour, was it?"_

" _Y-Yes sir."_

" _I saw you playin' with them weeds out back. You like flowers?"_

" _Y-Yes sir."_

" _I'll just take this one. Looks like he hasn't eaten in months."_

 _The lady laughed. "He probably hasn't, sir. Go pack ya things, Seymour. You're gettin' outta here."_

"He just walked in and took ya? Wow. Mista Mushnik ain't as bad as we thought, huh?"

Seymour laughs awkwardly. _He's dead now, so it doesn't matter._ "Yeah."

Audrey sighs. "Gee. He took me cryin' off the street and gave me a job, 'member? Guess he has a heart for misfit kids."

 _Stop talking about him._ "Yeah."

"I'm sorry all that happened to ya, Darlin'. Ya really deserve better. You deserve the world."

"You are my world, Audrey."

Audrey smiled. "And you're mine."

Seymour reached over and retrieved his glasses, then slid them onto his nose. He blinked a few times, before he settled his eyes on Audrey. There was a significant difference, Seymour noted, between seeing someone in the daylight and squinting to make out their face in the scattered moonlight. Audrey, who accidentally forgot to set her hair after showering, let it air dry. Her natural hair fell in loose waves around her face, which was plain. Devoid of makeup, her soft, green eyes were beset by that pretty skin of hers and healing bruises. Any other man would be repulsed at this image of an imperfect woman. But the thing about Audrey was, to Seymour, she never looked imperfect. Even if she happened to be drenched in blood, dying in his arms.

 _Ha, like that'll ever happen._ Muses Seymour. _I'll protect her from anything._

As for Seymour, his curly bedhead was enough to send Audrey back to sleep with a smile on her face.


End file.
